


bite

by theycallmeDernhelm (onyourleft084)



Series: and after all this time/i’m still into you [7]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crowley and Aziraphale Work Stuff Out, Kissing, Kissing and then dialogue, M/M, Relationship Issues, Rough Kissing, Shapeshifting, angel/demon powers, exploring intimacy, you and your SO could NEVER
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 20:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21308381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onyourleft084/pseuds/theycallmeDernhelm
Summary: Crowley hadn’t meant for it to go this far, but then again, demons are not known for their impulse control.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: and after all this time/i’m still into you [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1515578
Comments: 14
Kudos: 213





	bite

Crowley hadn’t meant for it to go this far, but then again, demons are not known for their impulse control.

It had started innocently enough. They’d driven back to the bookshop after seeing a show- one of the Cirque du Soleils, out of curiosity more than anything- and halfway up the doorsteps started chatting and teasing about one thing or another; Crowley couldn’t quite remember anymore. Through the foyer, into the back room where Crowley knew his angel would pour two glasses of liquor and they’d carry on. This time, Aziraphale had got slightly tangled in the folds of his own coat, and Crowley watched him struggle for a moment in demonically delighted schadenfraude before coming over to help.

“Here, let me,” he’d said- gently, he remembered, he had tried to be gentle with Aziraphale as always- and came up behind him to tug the coat off.

“Thank you, dear,” Aziraphale had said gratefully. He’d let Crowley slide the coat off his shoulders- Crowley could recall his posture relaxing, the trust as he put himself in the demon’s hands. An angel trusting a demon, who would have thought it.

This sense of intimacy between them was a rather new thing, one to be explored- gently, gradually- in degrees. Holding hands, lacing fingers. Running those hands over other parts of the body; shoulders, perhaps, or wrists, or hair- Crowley delighted in the fact that Aziraphale loved touching his hair, liked to feel those soft fingers running through it, turning tangled tufts into sea silk with the tiniest of miracles. Arms wrapping around waists or shoulders, one holding the other close until their sides pressed. Chins resting gently in the crook of the neck. And kisses- so many kisses, gentle and hesitant at first, but Crowley could tell they were both growing more confident at it, learning to fall into these loving habits as they unlearned six thousand years of restraint and allowed themselves- and each other- the long-withheld luxury of touch.

They had come so far. It would be a shame if Crowley ruined it.

Aziraphale had turned around to face Crowley then, waiting patiently for the demon to hook the coat onto the nearest rack before resting his hands on his narrow hips. “My dashing, darling demon,” he crooned, in the adoring way that made Crowley’s heart sing. He’d pressed closer, a bold move for Aziraphale; not that Crowley was complaining. They had waited so long for this to be normal for them...so long...

He’d kissed Crowley on the cheek, and then- ah, he’d started it, Crowley would argue, although it wasn’t a good enough excuse for how things turned out later- found that he couldn’t stop, pressing kisses all over Crowley’s face and lips and throat. What was a demon to do? Crowley kissed him back, an oil fire suddenly flaring up deep inside him.

“Oh,” gasped Aziraphale, in between kisses. “Oh. Sweetheart.”

And then he’d found himself pressed up against the wall again, slammed against it recklessly, the demon’s mouth hot and hungry against his. It was rough, but it was all right; Aziraphale knew a thing or two about sating hunger, and he pulled Crowley closer, fingers fumbling at his own bow tie to let Crowley kiss on his neck.

Crowley dropped his head, almost obediently. If that’s what the angel wants. He remembered that being his last coherent thought before- before-

Before his vision yellowed, throwing a sickly champagne-coloured filter on the world. Before the forking of his tongue and the sharpening of his teeth and the tang of venom in his mouth- and he didn’t know, couldn’t tell, until a low hiss dragged itself out of him and into the air, a ragged, dangerous sound that made Aziraphale’s pupils shrink in terror-

“Crowley.”

The hands which, just a moment ago, were winding themselves into Crowley’s lapels pushed him off roughly. It was like breaking a spell. Crowley jerked his head back, his features returning to normal. He could tell by the tightening on the skin of his cheeks that scales had started to break out, and were now fading away quickly. Before him Aziraphale had grown absolutely white with horror. He removed his hands from Crowley’s chest as if he’d been stung.

Crowley ducked his head, one hand clasped over his damned mouth to make sure the fangs were already shrinking. Just a second more, and would they have sunk themselves into the angel’s soft flesh? Crowley felt his face flaring up in shame.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, seeing the look on Aziraphale’s face; a prey animal staring paralysed at its predator. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t - Angel - “

For once Aziraphale had been speechless, and that was how Crowley knew something was terribly wrong. He composed himself nonetheless. Crowley took a step back, letting Aziraphale straighten his waistcoat and tie, not meeting Crowley’s eyes.

“I should go,” Crowley finally said, pulling his sunglasses out of his blazer pocket, the old defence mechanism.

To his surprise, and to his deep hurt, Aziraphale actually nodded and said, “I think that would be best.”

* * *

So, that was what happened. In a nutshell, an angel trusted a demon, and the demon got carried away.

Crowley left the bookshop and started walking onto the street, and he didn’t stop until he reached the park. The Bentley was left parked on the curb, and if you had a particularly active imagination, you could almost see its headlamp-eyes sadly watching him walk away.

He didn’t need a wheel under his hands right now. He needed to get his mind off what had happened. Driving home meant getting there faster, and that meant lying alone in bed, staring up at the ceiling, reliving the memory over and over. The feral rush that had risen in him. Aziraphale’s overwhelming fear. The look on his face. Crowley shook the thoughts off as he entered the park and started down a lamplit path.

He finally stopped at a familiar bench, and overwhelmed, sank into it helplessly. This sucked, he thought. All he wanted was to do right by his angel. But all his life, he’d never done a speed check on himself; and that carelessness threatened to dismantle everything he’d started to build with Aziraphale. It had been a while since he’d shape-shifted in any way, since he’d scared off that one fellow at Tadfield Manor when they were looking for Adam’s birth records; so to have had it happen so suddenly, and in the heat of the moment, was scary even for him.

It meant he still didn’t have control. Not really.

_You can pretend all you like, _mocked a voice in Crowley’s head,_ the same voice he’d used to tempt Eve, you can play the good guy and do things for Aziraphale and tell him you love him, but everyone knows you’re just rotten, rotten to the core, a selfish, dangerous, reckless little viper who‘ll hurt everyone that gets close-_

Lost in his thoughts, he barely noticed the sound of wings until a shadow blocked out some of the light from a nearby lamppost.

“There you are.”

Crowley looked up. His heart caught in his throat as he found himself gazing at Aziraphale, who looked honestly relieved to have caught up with him.

“Aziraphale?” He said, surprised. “How did you find me?”

The angel chuckled, “Come on, we always know how to find each other by now, don’t we?” As he approached, Crowley looked him up and down, noticing that the shadow he cast was different.

“You flew here?”

Aziraphale gave a prim rustle of his wings before folding them against his back, “Of course. Got to get some exercise every now and again.” He gestured to the empty space next to Crowley, “May I?”

Crowley regarded him cautiously. “I thought you didn’t want to be anywhere near me.”

“I thought so, too,” said Aziraphale quietly. “And I’m sorry about that, Crowley. That’s why I’m here - to apologise.”

Crowley scoffed, “what have you got to be sorry for?”

“Because I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that.”

Sometimes Crowley did not understand how Aziraphale functioned. After everything Crowley had done (or nearly done), the angel still managed to find some way to feel at fault. 

Crowley simply looked away and said, “I don’t blame you. I almost hurt you, after all.”

“Well, that’s one reason I’m wrong,” said Aziraphale, settling in next to Crowley. A mild flex of his back muscles, and the wings tucked themselves out of sight. “I should have known that you would never hurt me.”

“There’s no way we can know that for sure, Angel,” Crowley said, sounding more miserable than he meant to.

“Perhaps.” Aziraphale gave him the courtesy of not looking straight at Crowley, instead keeping his gaze ahead. “And if that really is the case, perhaps I shouldn’t be afraid of being hurt.”

The demon shifted his position, leaned forward with elbows on his knees. “I’m not worth the trouble, trust me.”

Aziraphale tutted, “Don’t be like that, of course you are.” He looked at him now, although Crowley kept his head lowered. “I can’t simply let you go after everything we’ve been through to keep each other in the first place.”

“But what if it happens again?” Crowley blinked at him through dark lenses. “I- I want to promise that it won’t, but what if- what if- “

“Then promise, my dear,” Aziraphale whispered gently, trustingly. He reached for Crowley’s hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “I trust you.”

“It’s not as simple as- “

“What do you take me for?” chuckled Aziraphale. “Come on, Crowley. I’m made of tougher stuff- I’m made of love, after all, I can handle a few knocks. And if this is part of the package that comes with - well, that comes with loving a demon, then...” he cleared his throat, “I’m taking it. I’ll be, what’s that modern expression? Your ride and die.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s ‘ride or die,’” Crowley couldn’t help but correct.

“Right, of course. That makes more sense.” Seeing that Crowley didn’t seem all that convinced, and still preferred to flagellate himself for what had happened, Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “For goodness’ sake, Crowley. I know what I’m doing.”

“I don’t want to risk it,” said Crowley hoarsely. “You have a tendency to just- just get into things you can’t get out of, Angel. Remember the Bastille? Remember the Nazis?”

“But you were always there to save me, weren’t you?”

“This time it’s different. It’s me causing the danger.”

“Not on purpose.”

“Oh, never, but still- “

Aziraphale kissed him, a sudden gentle, darting movement like Harry the Rabbit bolting for cover. He pulled away just far enough to murmur against Crowley’s lips, “I trust you.” Another kiss, tender and and sweet. “You won’t hurt me.”

“I- “ Crowley found the words kissed out of his mouth, reducing him to nothing more than a stutter. Aziraphale shifted closer to cup his face in his hands. The kiss deepened, turned long and slow and indulgent. Crowley shut his eyes tight, waiting for the old fire to ignite inside of him, for fangs to grow and the urge to bite- but nothing happened this time. Not with Aziraphale holding him together like this, one hand stroking his cheek, the other now gently tangling in his hair, a protective shell of warmth and the purest love imaginable.

A guardian angel, keeping the evil at bay.

Finally pronouncing himself satisfied, Aziraphale pulled away and smiled against Crowley’s cheek. “There. That wasn’t so bad, wasn’t it?”

Crowley couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah. Not so bad.”

“Don’t worry about going too fast,” chided Aziraphale, adjusting a Crowley’s glasses back onto his face. “I’ll be sure to keep up, this time.” He stood and held out a hand to Crowley and the demon took it, allowing the angel to help him up.

“Um,” said Crowley, shoving his other hand deep into one pocket out of habit. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I forgive you,” he said simply.

Reflexively, Crowley put his arm up, just like Aziraphale had done with his wing at the beginning of the first thunderstorm. And just like Crowley had done then, Aziraphale moved in closer, letting Crowley’s arm around his shoulders.

It was strange, this feeling of softness deep in his chest, settling somewhere in his solar plexus where spite and malice should take dominance, the fuel on which a demon should run. But Crowley let himself get used to it, the feeling welling up inside him as Aziraphale laid his head on his shoulder and they started to walk together, slowly, like any other pair of lovers, out of the park.

“I think we’ll be alright,” Crowley finally said, softly.

“I know we will be,” was all Aziraphale said in response.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m on Twitter- screaming, heckling and enabling all GO feral fan activity. @stan_gaiman


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